


La Petite Mort

by RaygunCourtesan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Choking, Clothed Sex, Consensual, F/F, Fantasy Fulfillment, Female Homosexuality, Held Down, Lesbians in Space, Maybe i'll get lucky and this'll be the method of execution, Naked Female Clothed Female, Porn Without Plot, Pretty sure this is high treason, Squirting, Strap-Ons, snuff fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6885133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaygunCourtesan/pseuds/RaygunCourtesan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Padmé Amidala has a breath play fetish but the Queen of Naboo can hardly be seen to indulge in such depravity. Fortunately, she has a gaggle of loyal and discrete handmaidens who're only too happy to hold her down and satisfy her needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Petite Mort

"On the bed, Highness."

Padmé stepped forward, the silk bath robe catching the moving air as she shrugged it from her shoulders, fluttering down her arms to pool in her wake as step by soft step across the floor she approached the foot of the grand bed.

Her knee slid up to meet the cool sheets. The softest cotton, light and airy, fit for a queen. She leaned forward, crawling on hands and knees onto the mattress that gently dipped beneath her weight, Padmé chanced a look across her shoulder.

There stood her hand-maidens. All six clad in their ceremonial robes - warm yellows and fiery oranges that seemed to glow in the low, diffused light of the royal bed chamber.

Padmé was accustomed to being nude in their clothed presence ; they bathed her, dressed her. But as she crawled across the bed, her every curve and intimate crevice on display, she felt truly naked.

"On your back, Majesty."

Padmé's cheeks warmed, a flush of redness and the tightening of her nipples concealed beneath the veil of her hair as it lay across her back and fell about her shoulders. She obeyed, hips scraping lightly on the bedding as she turned.

If she had felt a spectacle before, Padmé felt truly vulnerable now. The soft swell of her breasts and the length of her legs stretched out before her, she watched across the proof of her exposure as the handmaidens moved in silent coordination.

This was important to her, the process. The synchronicity and certainty of proceedings. As sovereign, she was ultimately responsible for everything. Here, she was responsible for nothing. No decisions to be made.

The mattress shifted under her as the handmaidens mounted the bed. Soft hands took her wrists and ankles, and with gentle, determined force they splayed her open. Each limb drawn out. 

Her arms from her sides, a hand at each shoulder and wrist pinning her in place. Padmé gasped, breath catching in her throat. Her thighs drawn apart, the womens' weight bearing down above her knee to hold her open. Padmé shuddered, her head turning to the side and eyes clenching shut as she felt the coolness of the air on her moistened folds.

The bed dipped one more time, Padmé's hips inclining with the shift toward the mounting presence. In her mind's eye, her wetness shone like a beacon, caught by the light, proof of things she couldn't bare to hear spoken. The handmaidens would say nothing. But they could see. They could all see.

The glide of silk along her inner thighs drew a gasp from Padmé's lips, her face burning hotly with embarrassment as the handmaiden settled between her thighs. She felt the bed beside her breasts give as one hand found purchase there, and the other brushed by her stomach, setting off a ripple of over-tensed muscle with its passing.

Padmé moaned as she felt a firm hardness brush along her slit. The sound tore its way from her throat in spite of herself, escaping her lips in a broken, stuttering little cry as it probed her entrance. She felt the tip cleave her wet folds, spread her swollen labia and her clit harden, throbbing lightly as it drew near.

She shuddered when the woman above her rubbed the slick toy across her aching nub, and then drew down to her opening. She braced herself for the inevitability of penetration. Her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths as she felt the tension between her thighs growing by the second in anticipation of resistance. Of something to grasp and squeeze and seek relief against.

The woman above her thrust. In an explosion of color and light behind her clenched eyes, she drew in a heaving gasp. And then the hands were upon her. The weight above her shifted so suddenly, fingers wound around her neck she felt her pulse throbbing beneath them and her eyes snapped open.

Padmé gazed upwards, blinking through the short-lived blindness. Shape, colour and finally features coming into focus. Sabé. It was Sabé.

Sabé began to squeeze. All the weight that'd been held by the bed now pressed down into Padmé's throat. Steadying herself with that grip, Sabé drew her hips back, pulling the thick shaft from the queen's depths, and thrust forward again.

Padmé felt herself clench as the toy began to edge out of her, and her back arch as she felt it fill her again. She tried to moan, the sound catching against the thumbs that pressed at her throat, a soft hoarse gurgle all that escaped.

Sabé thrust into her again. Padmé arched, and pulled against the grip of the women who restrained her. Their grips tightened, her joints pushed harder into the firm springs of the mattress which groaned with the pressure.

This is where the panic set in. Padmé's muscles tightened, lean limbs growing taut as she twisted and pulled - no longer testing their resolve, she fought against them. This is what they had agreed. No matter how she struggled, no matter what she did they would hold her down.

Her joints ached as she rocked back and forth beneath Sabé's thrusts, the sharp sudden stabs into her aching heat jerking her body through every inch of motion her restraint would allow.

Padmé wondered what her handmaidens imagined her thoughts to be, what fantasies had they conceived of that necessitated this? Being taught her place in the wedding bed of a handsome noble in her future? A rough servant forcing himself on her, threatening her life to ensure compliance?

What role did Sabé imagine for herself, as she forcefully thrust into her Queen? Could she imagine for a moment that this was it? That the only element which must remain in fantasy is that they would go through with it? That her life moments of life were being played out here, her last experience in this world to be held down and taken by her servants as they choked the breath out of her?

Padmé could feel the dampness of the sheets beneath her, her arousal flowing from her like a river she was thankful for the robes they still wore - only Sabé would be able to feel her wetness, the proof of her degenerate pleasure soaking the fabric and making it cling to the handmaiden's own thighs. Dimly, she could hear the lewd wet slaps from between her thighs and she flushed again with the heat of her shame. They all knew.

In her hazy fantasy, this was a coup. Led by Sabé, so often her body double the perfect imposter. Her own bodyguards holding her down as the woman she'd describe as her best friend took her life. Used her up and usurped her place. Padmé Amidala would die here, and nobody would know. The galaxy would go on without her, un-mourned.

Her lungs burned. Her cunt throbbed. She met each of Sabé's ever quickening thrusts with tensed muscles, forcefulness pushing through her with loud grunts of effort that mingled with Padmé's gurgling struggles. She clenched around the toy, just one more muscle fighting back as Sabé fucked the breath out of the young Queen one full bodied thrust at a time.

Padmé's rolling twists, aimed to gain leverage and momentum gave way to shaking tugs as her head swum. Her thighs forced open by Sabé's hips and knees pinned down her lower legs snapped flailing pulls and kicks against her bonds. The handmaidens had shifted their postures, bearing down upon each struggling limb to hold her in place.

And all the while Sabé squeezed. Padmé's pulse pounded in her ears, throbbed against the woman's tight grasp. Padmé shook her head from left to right, hair plasted to her cheeks and matting on the sheets beneath her.

She strained to catch the eye of one of the women trapping her in place. To plead for freedom, for air, for her life. They met her gaze. Watched the burning tears rolling down her cheeks, the ever darkening flush of her face but they offered no sign of compassion and they did not relent.

Padmé began to buck. Her aching muscles, starved of oxygen lashed out with every ounce of strength she could muster. Her head swum, adrenaline coursing through her and the constant pounding between her sodden thighs sending flashes of light into her darkening vision.

Sabé's thumbs crushed to her wind-pipe. She needed this. She'd demanded it. Commanded it. They would mark her. They would take her to the very edge. Force her to the fulfillment of her perverse desire. The bruising force with which they held her down, the white-knuckled pressure that she bucked and thrashed beneath and the painful bite in her throat as the last light began to fade from her vision. She'd wear the marks proudly, hidden beneath her regal gowns.

Her head snapped left and right. The last free range of movement open to her, she fought for a fraction of an inch of respite, but the grip only tightened, the thumbs only pressed harder. Choking splutters and gurgles filled the air, punctuated by the rapid slurps of her soaking cunt around the toy that violated her still The throbbing tension there seemed to flood her body with heat as she convulsed, it'd grown and grown, clenched tighter that she could imagine around the toy's girth as it plunged in and out of her with forceful violence and Sabé's exhorted cries of effort as she strained to keep up the pace.

Padmé was barely conscious as she came. The darkness took up her vision, she felt as if she were falling, her body thrashing for purchase in an empty space. Her body shook from head to toe beneath her handmaidens, her cunt gripped Sabé's toy so tightly as she took it to the hilt that it hurt. Her hips snapped back and forth, fucking herself along the last few inches of depth in her struggling spasms. The knot of painful pressure between her thighs finally broke, hot spurts of juices erupting from her, soaking the loose silk of Sabé's robes, drenching them both in the close wet warmth of their grinding crotches.

Sabé watched through it all, grinding into her cumming Queen, rolling her aching hips into hers to prolong and intensify the orgasm. And through it all, she gazed into Padmé's weeping, frightened eyes. She watched as they began to roll back as the woman beneath her squirted her juices all over her dress, soaking her through to her own thighs and drenching the bed.

Padmé could feel sensation slipping away. Pleasure manifesting as brilliant flashes of light in the darkness that grew ever dimmer and more distant. Sabé watched as Padmé's eyelids began to flutter over their whites. And she let go.

Padmé's throat convulsed as a drew in a heaving, gasping breath that swelled her chest, the sudden pull of every muscle she could engage to fill her starving lungs tugged at the toy buried inside of her.

The handmaidens held her fast. She wanted to claw at her throat, to chase away the phantom feeling of hands choking the life out of her. Her body in pure survival mode, they held her down for her own safety as she coughed and spluttered, muscles bruised and pulled by restraint and struggle, as she drew loud, hoarse breath after sweet loud, hoarse breath.

The world began to return to focus. The lights, the shapes, Sabé's own labored breathing as she lay atop her, toy still buried inside and propped up on her hands to free the Queen's chest of any impediment.

Minutes passed like that. The cool sheets beneath her, the wet warmth cooling at her crotch and under her ass, her lungs and muscles burning as the world stopped spinning.

A dull ache in her head was just beginning to set in at the edge of her senses when Sabé rose off of her, toy slipping from her depths with a humiliatingly lewd slurp. Slick with her arousal, strings of it ran between her crotch and the shaft, catching the low light brilliantly.  
Padmé watched, red-faced as Sabé unbuckled the harness from her hips, robes drenched dark by the Queen's release. She felt a hand from her ankle slacken and slip away.

"Dormé 's turn, Majesty..."

They were to each take her like this, she'd commanded. Each have her. Each kill her. Little deaths.


End file.
